


I'm Sorry

by incorrect19days



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Crying, Emotional Manipulation, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Guns, Kidnapping, Knives, M/M, Murder, Nightmares, Regret, Smoking, Threats, Torture, Violence, extreme mini-golf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrect19days/pseuds/incorrect19days
Summary: For a moment, he could pretend this was real. Pretend that Mo Guan Shan had wanted this and they were at his apartment, in his bed, doing this right.But it wasn’t.And he didn’t.And they weren’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was for a tumblr prompt - fuck or die.

‘You should be happy.’ Mo Guan Shan spat, pacing the small room like a tiger pumped full of amphetamines.

He Tian looked at him from where he sat on the filthy mattress, rubbing his sore shoulder and trying to figure a way out of this, knowing full well there wasn’t one. ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’ he asked.

Mo Guan Shan stopped walking, keeping as much space as possible between them. ‘This is what you’ve been wanting, right? To fuck me? Here’s your chance.’ His voice was steady but his hands shook.

Fucking Christ. How was he supposed to respond to that? Of course he wanted to fuck him, he had for years. But not like this. Never like this. Whatever the fucking polar opposite of this is, that’s how he wanted to fuck him.

That didn’t seem like the right thing to say, somehow.

The man that sat in the corner of the room cleared his throat loudly, tapping his shiny new Colt on his thigh. ‘If you’re not going to do it I can get a few of my boys in here.’

‘No.’ He Tian snapped, standing up, putting himself between the two. The man laughed, checking the time on his phone. ‘So, get on with it.’

He Tian didn’t have to see Mo Guan Shan in that moment. He could feel his nervous energy from where he stood.

Fuck.

FUCK.

It isn’t fair. Nothing, of course, is ever fair, but especially this. Mo Guan Shan doesn’t deserve this. He never deserved to be pulled into He Tian’s life and he doesn’t deserve to pay for his bullshit.

The man raised his gun slowly, leveling it at He Tian’s chest. His finger on the trigger and the tremors in his hands were a little nerve wracking and a lot fucking infuriating. He wanted to tell him to fucking do it, but he wasn’t going to be able to protect Mo Guan Shan while bleeding on the ground, so he fought the urge to open his big fucking mouth. 

Never call a junkie’s bluff, especially when he’s holding a handgun he doesn’t know how to use.

There’s a life lesson, don’t say i never gave you anything.

He Tian sighed heavily, turning his back on the gun.

‘Mo Guan Shan-’ he started.

‘No.’ he interrupted, shaking his head like he could dislodge the moment like a bug in his ear.

‘You need to listen to-'

‘No!’

Holding his hands up in front of him like he hadn’t for the gun, he took a step forward. Mo Guan Shan backed up. It wasn’t a large room so he hit the wall on step three.

‘You need to calm down.’ He Tian tried to keep his voice quiet and even as he took another step towards Mo Guan Shan. ‘I know this is a horrible situation, and I am so fucking sorry, but it’s going to come down to them…’ he gestured vaguely behind him ‘…Or me. It’s your choice.’

Mo Guan Shan’s gaze flicked over his shoulder and looked like he might vomit. There was a long, agonizing, moment of silence.

‘Y-you.’

Oh, thank God. He hadn’t been looking forward to making that choice for him. In his relief, He Tian uttered two phrases he hadn’t realized he was capable of even thinking.

‘It’ll be over quick-’ and ‘-you can fuck me.’

Before Mo Guan Shan’s eyes could literally leave his face, the man in the corner interrupted with a simple ‘Nope.’

He Tian turned away, making his way back to the mattress and lowering himself down again, trying not to argue.

Resigned, Mo Guan Shan approached and joined him.

He Tian hoped he’d never see this look on his face again. What happened to the man that kicked and spit and snarled all the way here?

Mo Guan Shan was sporting an impressive black eye, swollen nearly shut, ruptured blood vessels darkening his sclera like he’d used an eyedropper full of red ink.

‘This isn’t a date, kids.’ Came the man’s voice. ‘I want the redhead over the side of the mattress. Now.’

Mo Guan Shan adjusted accordingly, propping himself up on his elbows and staring down at his hands.

‘Stand up. Get behind him.’

He Tian obliged, placing his hand on Mo Guan Shan’s hip as he bent down, hoping it looked like something it wasn’t, and whispered in his ear.

‘I’m going to put something on your mouth, under your tongue, and you can’t spit it out. Please trust me.’

Mo Guan Shan nodded, almost imperceptibly, and He Tian reached between them, trying to make it look like he was adjusting himself, and reached into his pocket, fishing out a small, white, pill. He broke it into four tiny pieces along its fault lines and held them between his thumb and pointer finger before covering Mo Guan Shan’s body with his own.

Knowing how it looked to the man with the gun at his disadvantaged angle, and how it felt to Mo Guan Shan, he carefully slid his fingers between his lips, prompting him to lift his tongue, and carefully placing the small pieces there.

Mo Guan Shan gagged and He Tian clamped his hand over the man’s mouth. They really did taste disgusting.

From the corner of the room came the distinct sound of a zipper. He Tian wondered how many shots the fucker could get off before he reached him and how many teeth he could yank out before his friends intervened.

‘Touch him.’ The man instructed.

Gritting his teeth, He Tian pushed his hand under Mo Guan Shan’s shirt, rubbing little circles into his skin, hoping he could sooth him, if only a little bit until the pill started working. Would it be better to drag this out? Wait for him to relax, or just get it over with? Which one of those would make Mo Guan Shan hate him less when this was over? Probably neither. It’s way too fucking late for that.

Their captor seemed to be enjoying this, so he opted to go slowly. After several long minutes of trying to rub some of the tension from his muscles, hoping it looked like he was taking his time for his own benefit, the man spoke up.

‘Move your hips, show him how hard you are.’

He Tian rolled his hips slowly, putting as little pressure as possible into the move. Mo Guan Shan shivered below him when he realized the man had been right, He Tian was hard.

‘Let’s see some skin, pull his pants down.’

Hating himself more than Mo Guan Shan ever could, he reached underneath him, prompting him to lift his hips and suppressing a shudder when he did. Unbuttoning his jeans, He Tian hooked his thumbs in the the waistbands of his pants and boxers and worked them slowly down his hips and over his ass.

How many times had he imagined doing this? He tried to comfort himself with the fact that, in all his fantasies, Mo Guan Shan had been a willing participant. It didn’t help.

‘Touch him.’

So he did. He ran his hand over the soft skin and gave his hip a small squeeze. Mo Guan Shan was beginning to relax, the medication taking effect.

‘Great,’ the man told them, ‘Now put a finger in him.’

Just like that, the tension was back.

‘I don’t have any lube.’ He Tian told the man through gritted teeth. Digging around in a bag next to where he sat, a bag He Tian did NOT want to know the contents of, the man fished out a small bottle and tossed it to him with a smirk. Small mercies.

He popped the cap on the bottle of lube and used a generous amount to coat his fingers. Mo Guan Shan tried to push himself up but He Tian held him down with a hand between his shoulderblades. He wanted him to fight, but not now. It wouldn’t help either of them.

‘I’m so sorry.’ He Tian whispered, leaning over him again and pressing a slick finger to his entrance. He began to struggle in earnest, but He Tian was stronger and kept him still as he slid his finger in. Mo Guan Shan went rigid, every muscle in his body tensing, rebelling against the feeling, the intrusion.

‘Mo Guan Shan, I promise I’m not going to hurt you.’

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut fighting the frustration and the fog from the medication. ‘I can’t…I-I don’t…I haven’t…’

He Tian felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head before punching him in the gut.

‘Please, please tell me you’re not a virgin.’ He Tian begged.

‘None of your fucking business.’ Mo Guan Shan mumbled, sounding more frightened than angry.

He Tian closed his eyes, seeing red and willing himself to calm down. Moving his finger slowly in and out, waiting for him to adjust. He didn’t want Mo Guan Shan to hear each step from the disgusting man watching them, so he whispered ‘I’m adding another finger now. Mo Guan Shan winced as he did, tightening up again.

‘I know it’s uncomfortable, please try to relax.’ To his surprise, Mo Guan Shan’s muscles softened around his fingers, just the tiniest amount. He could see how much Mo Guan Shan trusted him and it made him feel a little homicidal.

‘How about you make him feel good, sweetheart, I bet you know how to do that, right? A faggot like you?’

He Tian turned to him, looking at his hand on his cock and up to his face, eyebrows raised. That was a pretty strong word coming from someone enjoying this so much. He let that go unspoken, but it was clear the man had understood and pointed the pistol at Mo Guan Shan this time.

Moving his fingers slowly, he carefully searched, crooking his fingers and brushing Mo Guan Shan’s prostate. He either hadn’t been paying attention or hadn’t known what to expect because his body jerked and he let out a surprised yelp. Any other time, any other place, he’d have reveled in the fact that he was the first one to touch him like this, not now.

It hit him that Mo Guan Shan was losing his virginity to someone he didn’t like, on a filthy mattress, at gunpoint and if the man in the chair wasn’t going to die before, he sure as fuck was now and that’s going to be the only satisfaction he’d get out of this.

He eased off, but the tsk-tsk sound from the man told him that was the wrong move, so he continued, stimulating the previously untouched bundle of nerves. Mo Guan Shan trembled beneath him, and this is the worse thing He Tian ever done.

‘He Tian, s-stop, I’m going to…’

Shit.

Would that make it better or worse?

‘Finish him off.’ The man instructed.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.’ had become He Tian’s mantra as he slid another finger in and increased the pressure. Mo Guan Shan came with a heart wrenching sob, and his body went slack.

The man groaned softly and had He Tian mentioned that he was going to fucking die?

Knowing it was cruel, but seizing the opportunity while he was relaxed, He Tian eased his fingers out, unzipped his jeans and pulled his aching cock free. Pouring lubricant into his hand, he slicked himself thoroughly. He lined himself up with Mo Guan Shan’s twitching entrance and pushed in in one fluid movement, covering Mo Guan Shan’s mouth to stifle the loud, desperate, sound the sick fuck wanted to hear. 

He moved slowly, wanting to let him adjust to the entirely unfamiliar sensation.

‘I told you to that you were going to fuck him, not make love to him like it’s fucking prom night, so fucking do it or I will come over there and show you how.’

Moving faster, he dropped his head on to Mo Guan Shan’s shoulder. He didn’t want to hurt him, he just wanted this to be over.

‘Harder.’

‘Faster.’

‘Pull his hair.’

With each order, He Tian imagined cutting off one of his fingers. Mo Guan Shan was shaking violently, his eyes shut tight, He Tian could feel his jaw clenching under his fingers. He groped for He Tian’s hand, an anchor. He Tian dropped down onto his elbows, pressing them together tightly, and entwined their fingers as Mo Guan Shan let his head fall forward, panting against He Tian’s palm.

For a moment, he could pretend this was real. Pretend that Mo Guan Shan had wanted this and they were at his apartment, in his bed, doing this right.

But it wasn’t.

And he didn’t.

And they weren’t.

A minute or so later, he pulled out, finishing on Mo Guan Shan’s back and releasing him. He wiped him off with his hand and wiped that on the blanket. He tucked himself back into his jeans and pulled Mo Guan Shan’s back up, helping him stand up.

‘Alright, we did it, can we go now?’ He Tian asked, too tired to do much else. The man escorted them through the dank warehouse, not bothering with blindfolds or zip ties this time. He opened the padlock with a key around his neck and pushed them both out into the cold, quiet, night.

He Tian called a taxi and they rode in silence. For very different reasons, neither one of them thought to call the police. Mo Guan Shan, a little unsteady on his feet, let He Tian help him into his apartment. He started a shower for him and waited for him to finish in the sparsely furnished living room.

It was half past fuck-all in the Goddamn morning and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep for seven or eight months.

‘Do you want me to go?’ Mo Guan Shan shook his head, avoiding eye contact. ‘I don’t care. It’s your choice.’

Bile rose in He Tian’s throat at the sound of his own words from barely two hours before.

‘Mo Guan Shan, I am so-’

‘He Tian, I never want to hear you say _I'm sorry_ ever again.’


	2. Chapter 2

He Tian woke up sore, wondering why he felt so latently homicidal. 

It came back to him slowly as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the world’s most uncomfortable couch. He closed his eyes at the memory of Mo Guan Shan’s skin and suddenly had the intense urge to shower in boiling water and douse his brain in bleach. 

He’d dreamed he was a wolf in a field of sheep, all of which held shiny Colt autos between their teeth and all he had were a pair of knuckledusters. Even prey has the upper hand when you’re armed with a close quarters weapon and no fingers. Weirdly, he’d had this dream before.

Forcing himself to his feet, he searched the kitchen cabinets, finding a small ziplock bag and pocketing it. He debated asking Mo Guan Shan if he could shower here or if he should wait until he got home. Hah. Home. Home is where those sick fucks had found them in the first place. Maybe Jian Yi and Zhan Zhengxi would let him crash with them for a few days. He was too tired to think about this.

He needed a shower, a cigarette, and black coffee injected in his veins because the idea of ingesting anything but nicotine sounded horrible. He knocked lightly on Mo Guan Shan’s bedroom door and a muffled voice told him to come in.

Mo Guan Shan looked as awful as He Tian felt. His eye looked much worse than it had yesterday, his paperwhite skin stained with blossoming bruises. Very undead chic. He took a deep breath. Shower now, plan massacre later.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?”

“Go for it.”

The only thing more frustrating than trying to figure out someone else’s shower for the first time is trying to make coffee in their kitchen. After several minutes of regretting his own conception, he managed to get the water to a decent, if slightly too hot, temperature. He longed for his toothbrush and a change of clothes, accepting the fact that he was going to have to make a stop at home sooner rather than later.

Before stepping under the water, he searched the drawers as quietly as he could, coming back with one of those plastic dental floss toothpick things. Examining his fingernails closely, he carefully used the toothpick part to scrape the filth out from under his fingernails and placed it carefully in the plastic bag before tucking it back into the pocket of his jeans. He wished he could have done the same to Mo Guan Shan, he distinctly remembered him leaving quite the scratch one of them.

Stepping into the shower, he spent a few minutes leaning against the cool wall with his eyes closed, letting the heat seep some of the soreness from his muscles before washing himself as thoroughly as possible, hating the feeling of the dried lube briefly return to it’s slippery state before washing away. Ten minutes later, feeling only marginally less disgusting, he dried himself off and got dressed. The stain on his boxers made him want to vomit so he shoved them in his pocket and resigned himself to discomfort.

“I’m going to run home.” He Tian said when he was back in the room. Mo Guan Shan nodded, whether in understanding or agreement, he did not know. “I was thinking about going to Jian Yi and Zhan Zhengxi’s place, I thought, maybe…” Mo Guan Shan looked away and He Tian realized he probably wanted some space, maybe not see him for awhile. Rape was rarely good for a friendship, who knew?

After some deliberation, Mo Guan Shan said “Pick me up on your way.” More relieved than he knew how to be, He Tian nodded. “Will do, it’ll probably be about an hour.” Hesitating, Mo Guan Shan asked “And we’re not going to tell them, right? About..”

He Tian shook his head, he didn’t know what Mo Guan Shan would call last night and he didn’t want to. “Absolutely never.”

Unsure of what to say next, He Tian asked “Hey, do you have anything you want burned?”

Mo Guan Shan looked at him like he might have misheard the question. “…What?”

“I’m going to burn some shit.” He told him, gesturing to his outfit. He wondered if Mo Guan Shan understood what he was getting at or if he just thought that’s how He Tian handled dirty laundry. Not a bad idea, really. Sounds better that folding towels. Mo Guan Shan gestured to the corner of the room where a crumpled up pile of clothes had been thrown, everything he’d been wearing the night before.

“Shoes too?” He Tian asked.”

“Everything.”

He Tian scooped it all up. He’d made it halfway out the door before Mo Guan Shan stopped him.

“You can’t burn all your problems, He Tian.”

“Fucking watch me.”

-

From the car, He Tian shot Jian Yi a text, asking if they could come over. Jian Yi agreed, thankfully. He would have gone anyway, of course, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue with Zhan Zhengxi who was shouting in the background for him to bring beer.

He Tian lit a cigarette and drove home at four miles an hour below the speed limit, knowing that putting it off wasn’t helping, but doing it anyway. Ten minutes later, he parked in front of the building and dragged his feet up the stairs. He lived in a huge, old, house that had been separated into eight tiny apartments. He normally loved being here, it felt like home. Not today. Fuck today.

The door was shut but unlocked, he lamp by the door was broken, his bookshelf had been knocked over, the TV screen was shattered, every drawer in the place had been opened and emptied. All around, it was an amateur turnover, more of a ransacking, really. It was infuriating.

He grabbed the flathead screwdriver and flashlight he kept on the top shelf of the closet and shoved his bed against the wall. Thank God for these old houses and their wooden floors. He pried up a loose board, setting it to the side. One by one he extricated the things he stashed there and dumped them into a duffle bag.

The browning his brother had given him for his birthday, more of a pocket gun, very little intimidation factor, The SW .45 cal that had belonged to his father and plenty of ammunition for them both.

The brass knuckles that had made an appearance in his dream, the switchblade he’d bought at the fleamarket a few years back, and trench knife his Grandfather had used. (They were a family that believed in peaceful resolution.)

The stun-gun he’d never gotten the chance to use, and a small hatchet.

Everything else was already in the car.

Maybe Mo Guan Shan was right. Maybe he can’t burn all his problems. Some things require a more hands-on approach.

He packed a few changes of clothes, his toothbrush and toothpaste, the remaining beers in his fridge and the half finished bottle of tequila in the freezer. You know, the essentials. Positive he was forgetting something, He Tian let himself out of the apartment, locking the door behind him and kicking his welcome mat back into place.

Between the metal lip of the doorframe and the tattered carpet, something caught his eye. He nearly laughed at the sheer fucking dumb luck of it. It was a coin, about the size of a poker chip, with a hole drilled in it for a chain. It had been hanging around the neck of one of the men from yesterday. Mo Guan Shan must have ripped it off. He pocketed it.

Under the spare tire in the trunk, He Tian had cleared space for whatever unregistered, illegal, or explosive things he often found himself in possession of. He removed the tire and stashed his goodies, tossing the bag of clothes in the backseat and dumping yesterday’s on the front seat with Mo Guan Shan’s

He took a detour down an old dirt path on the outskirts of the neighborhood, pulling into the cratered drive and stopping in front of the dilapidated barn. When they were kids, He Tian and his brother would ride their bikes out here to play around in the barn and the surrounding land. As they got older, it’s where they came to smoke weed and drink beers they’d swiped from their parents or the gas station.

They never brought friends to the barn, it was their place. Even as they grew and changed, they would meet here every few months and catch up. That lasted up until Cheng moved away last year, the fucking deserter. He Tian hadn’t been since, it felt weird to be here alone.

Gathering up the pile in the front seat, he walked through the overgrown grass around to the back. He dumped the soiled clothes into an old, rusted, oil drum and pulled the lighter fluid from his pocket. When he was satisfied with the flammability, he popped the cap closed and slipped back into his coat, fishing around for his pack of cigarettes. One left. Tapping it out, he crumpled the pack and tossed it in on top of the clothes.

The lighter he carried had been a gift from Jian Yi, a brushed chrome zippo with ‘fuck you’ engraved on the side in flowing calligraphy. Sparking it, he smoked slowly, trying to talk himself out of, well…being himself.

He pulled the coin from his pocket, studying it. It was old, worn down in some places. One one side, it had script around the outer edge, Latin, maybe. In the middle was a flower, probably. On the other was what looked like a dragon or lizard or a fucking velociraptor. If this is from Hot Topic or some shit, it was going down someone’s throat. He put it back in his pocket to avoid throwing it into the fire out of frustration.

Leaning against the rotting wood, he closed his eyes. All he could see was Mo Guan Shan crying underneath him and he wanted to make someone eat their own fucking heart.

He flicked the butt of the cigarette into the drum and hearing it catch with a soft whoosh. He was momentarily soothed like he always was by acts of arson, but it didn’t last. He dug his phone from the pocket of his jeans and snapped a nice commemorative photo of the moment, simultaneously realizing he was already late to pick up Mo Guan Shan. He looked around for something he could use as a shovel to smother the smouldering ashes, but came up empty.

Thankfully, he was wearing his boots. He kicked the drum over, watching what hadn’t burned tumble onto the dirt. He stomped out the sparks, kicking dirt over the soles of the shoes that hadn’t burned all the way through. Something caught his eye and he stooped down to pick it up, burning the living shit out of himself because - newsflash - fire is fucking hot.

It was the earring he’d given Mo Guan Shan so many years ago.

He put it in his pocket with the coin, and put his weight into punch to the side of the barn. The board he hit snapped and he fell forward, feeling the ragged wood tear into his forearm.

Spectacular.

Brilliant.

Excellent choice.


	3. Chapter 3

He Tian wrapped his arm in one of the few shirts he owned that didn’t have stains like this. He sat behind the wheel and tried to calm down. The pain helped to clear his mind like it always did.

Only twenty-six minutes late, he pulled up in front of Mo Guan Shan’s place and shot him a text.

Mo Guan Shan sank into the passenger seat a few minutes later and looked at He Tian like he was the family dog you just can’t keep from playing in traffic. 

He Tian looked away and started the car. Whatever it was he was thinking was likely warranted and accurate and the last thing he needed to hear right now. Childishly, He Tian cranked up the music on the stereo to avoid a conversation.

As they parked in front of their friend’s place, Mo Guan Shan checked his reflection in the vanity mirror and grimaced. He looked like shit. He Tian knocked and Jian Yi answered a few seconds later. His eyes went from Mo Guan Shan’s face to He Tian’s arm and he sighed the long-suffering sigh he’d perfected over the years.

They followed Jian Yi into the livingroom. Zhengxi looked up at them from the couch and snorted a laugh.

“You guys been playing mini golf again?”

He Tian nodded solemnly.

“If we quit, the game wins.”

Jian Yi dragged He Tian to the bathroom by his good arm and carefully peeled away his makeshift bandage, revealing a long, deep, gash. It was still oozing blood, and ached dully with every heartbeat. Jian Yi turned the tap for cool water and held He Tian’s arm under the stream to get rid of the excess blood. He grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet and poured it over the wound.

“FUCK you!”

“Don’t be a baby, you did this to yourself.”

Jian Yi rinsed the cut again and turned off the tap, motioning for He Tian to sit down on the toilet seat, searching the cabinets and finding the materials to clean bandage the wound.

“What happened, dude.” Jian Yi asked.

“I punched a wall.”

“Of course you did. What about your face?’

He Tian turned to the mirror He hadn’t even noticed the bruise forming over his cheekbone.

“Just a routine mugging, I already filed the paperwork and everything.”

“He Tian…”

“Sucker punched by a kangaroo. That’s the last time I get drunk at the zoo.”

“Dude.”

“Hustled a Wendigo at Pai Gow. Touchy fuckers.”

“DUDE.”

Fucking Christ. He hated lying to Jian Yi. Not just because it’s shitty thing to do or because it made him feel like he was stomping a puppy, but because Jian Yi ALWAYS knew and it was just god damn embarrassing. He has a reputation for fuck’s sake.

Mostly the puppy thing, though.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“I’m sorry, Jian Yi, I can’t.” 

“Like… can’t can’t or won’t can’t?”

“First one.”

Jian Yi leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

“Color me officially concerned.”

“Baby, I’ll color you you with magic markers if it’ll shut you up.”

-

Mo Guan Shan detoured to the kitchen, grabbing some drinks and jointing Zhan Zhengxi on the couch. He popped the caps as he walked, pocketing them. It was habit that had gotten him in trouble more than once. Nothing makes you look guiltier than a pocketful of bottle caps.

He sank onto the couch a few feet from Zhan Zhengxi and passed him a bottle.

“So… you guys finally fuck?”

Mo Guan Shan paled, nearly choking on the drink he’d just taken and stood quickly.

“Why the FUCK would you say that?!” he demanded.

Zhan Zhengxi held his hands up, eyes wide. “Shit, dude, I was just kidding! The bruises, and the two you have a history of injuring each other… it was a bad joke, sorry.”

Mo Guan Shan sighed, sitting back down and shaking his head, feeling like an asshole.

“Sorry, I’m just really tired.” He explained lamely. They sat in silence for a few moments before Zhan Zhengxi spoke.

“You’d tell me if this was something bad, right If something was going on?” Zhan Zhengxi asked, gesturing to his eye.

Mo Guan Shan thought about that for a moment and nodded. They both knew that was a lie, but knowing doesn’t mean shit in situations like this does it?

Zhan Zhengxi leaned forward, sliding open a small drawer in the coffee table. He sifted through some things before closing the drawer and offering Mo Guan Shan a prescription pain pill from when he got his appendix taken out. Without question, Mo Guan Shan thanked him and popped the pill into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of beer.

In the midst of the whirlwind of dramatics that was Jian Yi and He Tian, Mo Guan Shan and Zhan Zhengxi had formed a careful alliance that had become a close friendship over the years. Mo Guan Shan trusted Zhan Zhengxi, and in many cases he wouldn’t hesitate to involve him in whatever reckless shit he had planned, but not this.

THIS was horrible. THIS was disgusting and humiliating and these two never needed to know about. WOULD never know about. He knew it was stupid. Of course they should have called the cops. Of course they should have gone to the hospital, but the thought of sitting in the emergency room and being poked and prodded. The thought of talking to a room of cops staring at him with that look of pity that makes him want to punch people was pointless.

It hardly mattered. He hadn’t needed medical attention, he’d been bruised and cut up plenty of times and had gotten a tetanus shot the year before after picking a fight with a boxcutter wielding asshole at a party. He probably should get a round of antibiotics or something though, it hadn’t been a very clean environment. As for the… other part, He Tian had been right, he hadn’t hurt him. Stupidly, selfishly, he almost wished he had. He knew how to handle pain.

And as far as the cops go, they’d just get in He Tian’s way.

-

The four spent the day watching movies, drinking, and generally shooting the shit, and things felt almost normal. Around sundown, He Tian announced that he was going to the store. Jian Yi asked if he was coming back and Zhan Zhengxi told him to bring food. Mo Guan Shan followed him to the door.

“I’m coming with you.”

He Tian turned to look at him, then at Jian Yi and Zhan Zhengxi over his shoulder, they were focused on the TV. He opened the door and led Mo Guan Shan out onto the porch. There was no point in telling him he was just going to the store, he could read him almost as well as Jian Yi. He really needed to up his lying game.

He wanted to refuse, to keep him out of this, and leave him here, where he was safe. But he knew better. If Mo Guan Shan wanted to come, who was he to stop him? If he wanted to be involved in this, so be it. He owed him that. The universe fucking owed him that.

“Fine. But you’re staying in the car.”

Mo Guan Shan scoffed, looking at him for the first time since they’d gotten here. “Gee, wow, I bet you’ll leave the windows open and everything. I’m not a fuckin’ poodle.”

“Can’t blame me for trying.”


	4. Chapter 4

This is just such a fucking bad idea. Seriously, on a scale of one to ten, one being lighting yourself on fire, ten being taking a joyride in James Dean’s Spyder, this is like…a six.

And yet, here they sat. Taking their third consecutive car ride in silence like they were on the way to a wake or a divorce hearing. He Tian scrolled through music on his phone, finding a song he always used to bother Mo Guan Shan and cranking up the volume, waiting for him to turn it off or yell at him. He’d have settled for an annoyed sigh at this point.

No dice. Mo Guan Shan just stared out the window, arms crossed over his chest.

This is fun.

He wanted to push him, to fuck with him, to get a rise out of him, make him interact. He wanted to pull the car over and demand Mo Guan Shan talk to him.

Unfortunately, he’d had enough sense beaten into him over the years by Jian Yi and Zhan Zhengxi to know that was a bad idea.

What would a normal person do in this situation? He’d never really know the answer to that hypothetical because normal people don’t fucking end up in situations like this, do they?

Is there a handbook on etiquette for ritually fucking up people’s lives? Did Sherlock Holmes write a guidebook about being a fucking horrible friend?

How do people do this? Just… have friends and not be a fucking inconvenience. It’s like a fucking superpower.

What’s it like not to be the worst person someone knows? To not be the person people tell stories about at parties?

To be be boring.

To be normal.

To not be fucking defective.

He should know how to do this. He should know how to comfort his friend. As a human, shouldn’t he have some kind of instinct for these things? 

Even if he told Jian Yi and Zhan Zhengxi what happened, they’d see it as something else. They’d see He Tian, in love with Mo Guan Shan, and try to solve it from there. But it’s not like that.

Sure, He Tian was in love with him. He had been since the day he met the asshole, but that wasn’t the fucking point.

It had taken years of push and pull, give and take, fighting and bullshit, but Mo Guan Shan was his best friend and, whether he likes it or not, Mo Guan Shan felt the same way. This. -This- wasn’t about love or romance or pining, or heart shaped candy. This is about someone hurting his best friend, and that shit does not fly.

Sure, it could be argued that He Tian was the one that hurt him but if that’s how you see it, fuck you.

“Can I say something?” He Tian asked.

“No.”

So he didn’t.

Several minutes passed in that heavy silence that made He Tian want to scream. Finally, a car pulled up beside them. Mo Guan Shan groaned, dropping his head back against the seat.

“Is that your fucking brother?”

“Yep.”

“What are you going to tell him?”

“Everything.”

“Fucking fantastic.”

-

He Tian and Mo Guan Shan got out of the car, walking to where He Cheng was pulling things from his trunk. Without looking at them, he handed Mo Guan Shan a case of beer, and He Tian a bundle of firewood.

They walk together to the barn, following He Cheng and his flashlight. Lazy bastard. Mo Guan Shan looks around as they walk, likely confused as to why they’re in a fucking barn. Possibly wondering if he was going to be sacrificed to some elder gods.

They stopped in the middle of the large, partially walled, space and He Tian dropped the logs.

“What are we doing here, exactly?” Mo Guan Shan asked, setting the beer down on a makeshift seat.

“We’re going to burn my little brother at the stake for whatever it is he’s done this time. I’d thought you’d have found better company by now.” He Cheng told him.

He Tian looked up from assembling the firewood and flipped him off. After a few minutes the three sat around a small fire, drinking and shooting the shit for awhile.

“Alright, what’s going on here?” He Cheng eventually asked.

“How do you know this isn’t just a social call?” said He Tian.

“Because you sent me a picture of some shit on fire.”

“I thought that summoned you.”

“Close, I have to be burned in effigy for that to work.”

Mo Guan Shan watched their back and forth for a few minutes. He’d forgotten what it was like to be around the two of them. He drained the remainder of his beer, tossing the bottle into the fire.

That seemed to remind the other two that he was still there.

He Tian cleared his throat. “Right, s- my bad.” He Cheng passed out some more drinks and focused his attention on He Tian, all traces of humor gone from his face.

So, He Tian told him. He left out as many intimate details as possible, but there were some things he was going to need to know.

When it came time to describe the small room they’d been in, Mo Guan Shan excused himself to have a cigarette. Ignoring the fact that, with the roof caved in above them and gaping holes in the walls where the wood had rotted away, they were basically already outside. He Tian felt a certain sense of relief at that.

If he had to see Mo Guan Shan cry again, he was going to lose his fucking mind.

His brother listened intently, asking a few questions, rolling the coin He Tian had handed him across his knuckles absentmindedly. He didn’t say anything when He Tian’s voice broke and he had to take a minute to pull himself together.

By the time he’d finished the story, his throat was raw, his eyes were stinging, and he thought he might vomit. He patted himself down, realizing Mo Guan Shan had taken his cigarettes. His brother pulled a pack from his pocket, lighting one for He Tian and handing it over before lighting his own.

“Is he alright?” He Cheng asked, jerking his chin in the direction Mo Guan Shan had left. He Tian shook his head, exhaling a long stream of smoke, enjoying the burn in his throat.

“I doubt it.”

“Have you talked about it?”

“He won’t.”

He Cheng nodded.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Do you have anything else, other than the coin and the bag? Your clothes? His clothes?”

“I burned them.”

“Of course you did.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I’m sure.”

He Tian debated going to search for Mo Guan Shan, lest he’s eaten by wolves or harassed by high school students, but decided against it.

“What is it that you need me to do, Tian?”

“Find them.”

“So you can…”

“Have a friendly chat.”

“You can’t just go kill these people, Tian. ”

“Sure I can.”

“Alright, then you shouldn’t.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“Because murder is illegal.”

“One GOOD reason.”

“…”

“Exactly.”

“Leave it to me, then. I can be in and out, quickly and quietly.”

“I don’t want quickly and quietly, I want slowly and loud.”

He Cheng sighed.

“You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t even know what kind of people you’re dealing with.”

“That’s why I need your help.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll find someone else.”

“This is a bad idea, kid. You’re going to regret it.”

“Not as much as I’ll regret doing nothing.”

“Why are you doing this? You’re tough, you can get past this shit.”

“I’m not doing it for me, I’m doing it for him.”

“Maybe it would be best to just let it go, to go see a therapist or go to some kind of support group.”

“Yeah, let me find the nearest ‘someone made me rape my friend’ support group.”

“You know, that probably exists.”

“For fuck’s sake…”

“Why did you bring him along? He doesn’t seem to be doing well so far.”

“It’s hardly my place to tell him what to do, especially about this.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

He Cheng looked at him sadly, diverting his gaze to the cigarette he’d let burn out. Tossing it into the fire, he reached into his pocket and lighting a new one.

“Of course I am.”

They spent another hour or so with He Cheng, drinking and smoking while the fire died down, deciding to part ways around midnight.

“I’ll take this to the lab and get back to you tomorrow. I’m going to stick around for a few days so… don’t be a stranger, or whatever stupid shit someone would say in a moment like this.”

“vaya con dios?”

“Yeah, fuck you too.”

-

On the way home, Mo Guan Shan surprised him, asking “Are you going home?”

He Tian hesitated. At this point, why lie?

“I don’t want to be there right now. I’m going to stay with Jian Yi and Zhan Zhengxi for awhile. I’ll take you home if you want, but, in all honesty, I’d prefer you stay over also.

“They do have two couches.” Mo Guan Shan reasoned.

“And a surprisingly comfortable rug.” He Tian agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

They made it back to the apartment around one with an assortment of chinese food to find their weaker friends had already retired for the evening. They ate all the egg rolls and sesame chicken because that’s what they get for passing out early. 

Mo Guan Shan’s fortune cookie read- ‘A ship in the harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are for.’ Which is charming and encouraging. He Tian’s read- ‘Every day above ground is a good day.’ Which is ominous and terrifying. They nearly opened the other two, but that’s just cheating and he has to draw the line somewhere. He Tian took the uncomfortable couch after losing two out of three round of rock-paper-scissors because, apparently, if you choose scissors every time you’re ‘predictable’ and ‘stupid.’ 

Before settling in for the night, he went to the small guest bathroom and sat on the side of the tub, trying to will himself to clean his arm so Jian Yi wouldn’t yell at him in the morning for risking an infection and blah blah… He stood, studying himself in the mirror. He didn’t look as bad as Mo Guan Shan, but he certainly didn’t look good. The bruise on his cheek was darker than it bad been, his lower lip was swollen, almost like he’d been punched in the face. He unwrapped his arm, wincing as the gauze peeled away from the wound. He rinsed it carefully, frowning down at the mess. It looked disgusting, but at least it wasn’t bleeding anymore. He probably should have gotten stitches.

Last year, He’d gotten a diagram of an anatomical human heart tattooed on his forearm, halfway up. It hadn’t had any significance beyond, ‘it’s cool looking.’ The gash went right down the middle, warping it, leaving most of it an unrecognizable, ugly, jumble of jagged lines and warped shades of gray. He had to laugh. He’d be fucked If that’s not the most typical shit. He found a first aid kit under the sink, clumsily taping some fresh gauze over the gash and ripping open a packet of tylenol that wasn’t going to do anything. 

Back in the livingroom, Mo Guan Shan was still sitting up on the couch, staring at his phone. “Do you want, like, a bag of frozen peas or raw steak or something for your face?” He Tian asked, for lack of anything better to say, feeling the need to fill the silence. 

Mo Guan Shan looked up at him, “Do you have either one of those things handy?” Shit. “No, but Jian Yi probably does, I saw him eat vegetables once and I know Zhan Zhengxi likes steak.” Mo Guan Shan rolled his eyes, “No, thanks, I’ll take an ice pack though if you’re going to the kitchen.” Double shit. “Ah, ice packs. Forgot about those things.”

Shaking his head, Mo Guan Shan said, “I genuinely don’t understand your brain.” He Tian nodded. “Lucky you, it’s dark in here and my flashlight’s out of batteries.” Mo Guan Shan sighed. “Jesus. Go away.”

He Tian searched the freezer, eventually coming up with an ice pack. It was full of tiny, blue, beads that reminded him of a pellet from a bb gun. When he was a kid, his brother had received a bb gun for his birthday. Since the bullets were so small, he’d been sure getting shot with it wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t even break the skin. Mind you, we’re talking about one of the old pump action things, not an airsoft gun. 

While not all together common, a few people die each year from a point blank shot with a bb. To make a long story short, He Tian has three tiny scars on his shoulder that always made Cheng laugh. One night, while drunk, he’d gotten little stars tattooed around each one but couldn’t remember why. Back then, bleeding in his backyard, those shots had been the most painful thing that had ever happened to him. 

He fought the urge to cut the ice pack open and run his fingers through them. What would it feel like to be shot with one of these? Would the dense gel sting like an airsoft shot? There were no peas in the freezer so he let the thing live. 

He grabbed a few beers from the fridge, wrapped the ice pack in a hand towel, and made his way back to the living room. He dropped the pack onto Mo Guan Shan’s lap and touched the freezing bottle to the side of his neck. Mo Guan Shan called him a colorful name and yanked the drink from his hand. That was all well and good, but his heart wasn’t in it.

They watched an old movie Mo Guan Shan had picked, keeping the volume down, and had a few more drinks. Mo Guan Shan fell asleep some time before the credits rolled, leaving He Tian alone with the bad taste in his mouth. 

His head was starting to hurt. A sharp stab of pain starting at his right temple and spreading until his skull was full of fire ants and it hurt to think. He’d come to associate this shit with days he’d couldn’t do anything but lie still somewhere dark and quiet. He didn’t handle those days well and this was a REALLY bad time. Is there someone he could call to reschedule? A manager he could speak to?

Zhan Zhengxi told him they were migraines and that denial wouldn’t make them go away and the booze and nicotine weren’t helping. He would give He Tian one of his pills and tell him he needed to see a doctor. Fortunately, booze, nicotine, and denial would get rid of that part just fine.

He tried to ignore it, only to frustrate himself further when he failed. Fuck this. Seriously. All of it. Everything about this was exhausting and painful and pointless and it could suck his goddamn dick. Before this is over, someone’s getting a broken glass and lemon juice enema while having their brain scooped out through their nose and being force fed those tiny marshmallows they put in hot chocolate.

The knowledge that there was nothing he could do at that exact moment was both comforting and infuriating. Cheng had convinced him to leave the coin with him, likely to try and keep him from doing any sleuthing. It was a good concept, but ultimately pointless. He Tian had taken pictures of it because it’s 2017, his phone had a camera, and his head wasn’t full of mashed potatoes. Despite that, he still had no fucking idea what it was or what it said. 

He could ask Jian Yi, he liked shit like that, but then he’d have to explain his sudden interest in old coins and couldn’t think of anything that would sound even remotely convincing. This was so completely beyond him. He was so far in over his head with this he could drown. He couldn't lie or cheat or ‘fuck you’ his way out of this and you can't punch emotional issues in the teeth, so he had very little to offer. 

He wished he could say something, like all he wanted was a healthy relationship or to save the bees, but it'd be a lie. Well… yes to the bees, but he couldn’t do anything about that at the moment either.

He wanted revenge and violence and an excuse to hurt someone, was that really so much to ask? It was moments like these when he wished he was still young enough that cops would brush shit off as teenage shenanigans and were easy to buy off. Once you hit twenty-five, it wasn’t all that cute anymore and cops were getting more and more honest around here. How very unfortunate.   
He Tian checked his phone. It was nearly three. The witching hour, as they say. Maybe he should draw a pentagram on the floor and summon a demon for advice, or Metatron’s cube to summon a geometry teacher. 

OR, he could try to calm down, get some sleep, and deal with this tomorrow. Ugh.

Just as he feared, the headache was making him think rationally. What if this is how regular people feel? What if the headache is just the weight of humanity? What a fucking nightmare. 

Eventually, using a breathing technique Jian Yi had taught him, he drifted off. His dreams were full of bleeding wounds, burning oak, tears on heated skin, and little blue beads.


End file.
